


Unit 316, what is your status?

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, F/F, Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa was having a good day until some punk ass kid decided to try to sell drugs right in front of her and she had to chase him down an alleyway. Honestly, kids these days aren't even smart enough to not sell drugs right in front of a cop. Clarke was also having a great day. She had some quality flirting time with Lexa this morning and her patrol has been quiet. How did it all go so wrong? And why can't Clarke stop flirting with Lexa?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unit 316, what is your status?

**Author's Note:**

> First stab at fanfic in a long time. Let me know what you think!

Lexa pauses and sucks in a breath as she peers down the two alleyways trying to figure out which one the damn delinquent had gone down. She caught sight of the puddle, still rippling, and the wet shoe prints that came out the other side. With another deep breath she takes off again down the narrow alley. 

Shit. She really needs to work out more. She’s getting too old to keep up with these young punks. 

She comes to the end of the alley and is stuck trying to figure out which way to turn again, when the sound of a door slamming and a scuffle behind her make her turn. The kid she was following (Lexa caught him very unsubtly selling weed outside a convenience store. She didn’t want to bring him in for a bit of pot, but she couldn’t just let him do that so blatantly in front of her.) stumbles out into the alley and crashes against the wall, followed closely by two older people, a large man and a woman about Lexa’s size. Lexa registers that the woman is holding a gun and instantly draws her sidearm from its holster. 

“You dumb fuck! You think we’re gonna stick our necks out to protect you from the cops. You ain’t worth shit.” The hulking man steps forward to hover menacingly over the kid lying in a heap on the ground. Lexa can now see that the punk has a black eye and a cut lip.

The woman raises her gun to point it at the kid. “You need to-”

“STOP! Lower your weapon.” All three of them whirl towards Lexa, just now realizing that she’s there. Lexa levels her gun at the woman, carefully keeping her finger off the trigger and the safety on.

There’s a brief, almost comical moment, where everyone stands stock-still. Then the man and woman erupt again, while the kid scrambles backwards. The man turns towards the kid again and seizes him before he can get away. 

"Hey! Let him go." Lexa keeps her firearm trained on the woman, "You, drop the gun." 

The man reaches around and pulls a gun out of the waistband of his pants as the woman speaks. "I'm not dropping anything. You turn around and get out of here before I put a bullet in you." She steps towards Lexa threateningly and Lexa unlatches the safety on her weapon. 

The man points his gun towards Lexa, as well. "I'll take him out, too, if you don't leave."

The whole scene freezes again as Lexa's radio crackles to life, "Unit 316, come in. What is your status?" 

Heart pounding in her throat, Lexa swallows and then slowly reaches towards her radio. “This is Unit 316. Status 10-10. Location just Southwest of 7-11 at corner of Boston and 12th. Be advised 10-90 in progress.” She keeps her eyes trained on the pair with guns as she speaks.

Everyone remains still until Dispatch confirms. Another beat. Then all hell breaks loose. The man turns to run, but not before shoving the kid towards Lexa. Unfortunately, he shoves the kid into the woman. Her knee jerk reaction is to fire her gun, which thankfully hits the pavement, harmless. 

But it startles the guy enough that he spins around, thinking he’s under attack, and haphazardly unleashes a barrage of bullets. At the first gunshot, Lexa had darted to the side of the alley, but that isn’t enough to escape the gunfire, especially when the woman joins in. 

The first bullet to make contact clips the punk’s shoulder, knocking him to his knees. All Lexa can hear is the blood rushing in her ears when she levels her gun and fires a controlled cluster of shots towards the man’s chest. As she’s adjusting her aim towards the woman, one, then two bullets catch her in the vest and throw her back into the wall. 

Disoriented, Lexa recovers in time to see the woman disappearing around a corner. Gasping for breath and with a painful, jagged ache in her ribs, Lexa takes stock of the situation. The kid is rolling around on the ground, bleeding from his shoulder. She starts to lift herself up and shuffle towards him, while fumbling for her radio. That movement is when Lexa becomes aware of a searing, white-hot pain in her left thigh. Looking down, she is astonished to see blood pouring out of a bullet hole. The amount of blood is alarming.

\---

Clarke hums happily as she strolls back towards her patrol car. Today had started off really damn well. She had seen Lexa this morning and gotten in some quality flirting over coffee. She thinks she’s making a bit of progress in that area. Lexa seems quite stoic and emotionless sometimes, but Clarke is sure she can see through that to catch the hints of emotions in Lexa’s eyes and the small quirk of her lips. Clarke had realized early on in her infatuation that she would have to take it slow and careful with Lexa, so as not to scare her away.

But still, Clarke is pretty sure Lexa’s making an effort to flirt back. Lexa had placed three calls for assistance from Clarke in the same number of weeks. Each time it had turned out the Clarke wasn’t really needed at all, so Clarke is convinced that Lexa keeps calling just so she can see her. And flirt with her. 

With those happy thoughts in mind, Clarke is pleased when she gets a radio call just as she’s settling back into her car. “Unit 224. This is dispatch. Unit 316 requests back-up. Alley just Southwest of 7-11 on corner of Boston and 12th. Codes 10-10 and 10-90. Can you respond?”

“Roger that, Dispatch. Unit 224 enroute. ETA 5 minutes.” Clarke barely contains her delight, imagining Lexa calling for her help just because she wants to see her.

“Dispatch confirms.”

Humming again, Clarke puts her car in gear, flips on the lights, and pulls out. Her impenetrable happy bubble prevents her from registering that a 10-10 is their highest priority call for help and a 10-90 means weapons have been drawn. 

Smiling to herself, Clarke fiddles with the radio and turns to Lexa’s channel. She puts on a coy voice and says, “Hey there, Officer, I hear you’re in need of assistance.”

There’s a long pause and then Lexa’s voice comes in muffled, “Yes, Clarke. Situation has changed. 10-4.” 

“10-4? Is that code for ‘You look so good in uniform, the bad guys just swooned over you?’” Not her best effort, but this is on short notice. She even bats her eyelashes though Lexa can’t see it.

Another long pause. Clarke doesn’t register the strain in Lexa’s voice as she replies, “No, Clarke. That’s code for I’ve been shot.”

“Aww. So you need me to come kiss it better? My kisses have magical properties, you know.” Perhaps Clarke is overdoing it a little, but for some reason she’s feeling bold today.

“No. I need a damn ambulance. Stop with the games, Clarke.” Lexa’s irritation (and a hint of panic) is more clear this time.

Clarke is starting to think she’s forgotten something important, but she shrugs it off. “Well, you know I like it when you get demanding, Commander.”

Lexa’s response is quick and snarling, "For fuck’s sake, Clarke. I just got shot and could be bleeding out. If you do not shut up right now and make sure I get medical assistance, I will rise from from the goddamn grave and kill you myself."

Horror overcomes Clarke as her car jerks to a stop in the 7-11 parking lot. 

10-10. 10-90. 10-4. Lexa. Shot. Oh my God. 

Lexa is in serious danger and she’s been shot. She scrambles for her radio, making sure Dispatch has an ambulance on the way and then she’s out the door and sprinting towards the alley.

\---

Burning with anger at Clarke, Lexa turns her attention back to the task at hand. She grunts as she finishes tying off her shirt around her leg. The effort to slow the bleeding doesn’t seem to be doing much. Regardless, she drags herself over to the kid. On the way, she notes that the man is down and not ever getting back up. Lexa is pretty sure at least two of her bullets hit him in the chest. The thought makes her feel sick as she takes in the pool of blood he’s lying in. 

The kid is groaning and squirming when Lexa reaches him. As she puts pressure on his wound, her radio jolts to life again. “Unit 316. Unit 224 and ambulance on-site. Hang in there.”

It dawns on Lexa then that she’s rather dizzy. There are spots in her blurry vision. She blinks slowly and then her eyes fall shut heavily. Her last conscious thought is that she’s really going to make Clarke pay for those awful attempts at flirting while she was bleeding out.

\---

Clarke draws her firearm when she reaches the alley, but otherwise continues forward with reckless abandon. She can’t think beyond Lexa, hurt, bleeding, danger. Clarke might be sick. If something happens to Lexa it will be her fault. Entirely her fault. She’s an idiot. An absolute idiot. She wasn’t focused on her job and now Lexa is hurt, bleeding, maybe dying.

Clarke calls out for Lexa as she flies through the alley. There’s no response. She peeks down the first side alley she comes to. No one. She continues to the second, calling out again.

Down at the far end of the second alley she can see bodies on the ground. Clarke rushes forward screaming for Lexa. Still no response. As she comes closer, she can make out pools of blood around the bodies. So much blood. Clarke is going to be sick. 

The first body she comes to is a man lying on his back, three bullet holes in his chest, a gun held loosely in his hand. Clarke holsters her weapon and kneels to feel for a pulse. There is none, so she jerks away toward the other bodies about 20 yards away. Clarke can make out Lexa slumped next to a kid that looks about sixteen. 

Clarke urgently throws herself down next to Lexa and reaches for neck. She just about passes out from the relief of feeling Lexa’s pulse. It’s weak, but there. She reaches for the kid finally and he has a pulse as well. He groans when Clarke pushes at his shoulder to look at the wound.

Her heart starts violently when the paramedics call in over the radio. “Unit 224. Paramedics on scene. Where are you?”

Clarke’s hand is shaking and bloody when she reaches for her radio. “Unit 224 here. Continue into alley just behind the convenience store. Then second alley on the left. Three gunshot victims. One dead. Two with weak pulses. They’ve lost a lot of blood.” Her voice remains steady as she gets that information out, but it cracks when she adds, “Hurry, please!”

\---

Clarke is in a haze as she sits next to Lexa’s hospital bed. The steady beep of the monitor fades in and out of her consciousness as she thinks over the last two days. She had followed the paramedics to the hospital and waited anxiously as Lexa went through surgery. Hours later the doctors had come out to inform her that Lexa would be okay. She lost a lot of blood, but fortunately the bullet hadn’t hit her femoral artery. Still she would need rehab to repair the muscle damage done by the bullet and recover from her three fractured ribs.

After that, Clarke had been called in by the Chief. To put it lightly, that had been the worst meeting of her life. She was roundly chewed out for her unprofessional behavior over the course of two hours. Yeah, all those radio transmissions are recorded. Then she was suspended for a week without pay and told that she would be required to complete a couple training courses in workplace behavior before she would be allowed back on the force. Even then Clarke could guarantee that her ass would be chained to a desk for a long while before she would be allowed back out in the field.

None of that punishment compared to how much Clarke was beating herself up though. Lexa could have died because she was an idiot with a crush and not focused on her job. Lexa could have died. Clarke hadn't thought - she hadn't thought Lexa was really hurt. She had hoped - had been hoping for awhile - that Lexa might just want to talk to her. That was so, so incredibly stupid of her. Lexa had only ever been polite to her and interacted with her when necessary. Even if Lexa had been flirting, she still should have had been focused and recognized the urgent codes for help.

Instead, here she was sitting next to Lexa’s hospital bed, eyes red rimmed, hair greasy, face haggard, and without sleep for two days, waiting for Lexa to wake up. Other police offices had shuffled in and out of the room leaving flowers and get well cards. She’d had to sit through another thorough dressing down for her idiocy by Anya, Lexa’s best friend. They’d then sat for hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence, before Anya had left an hour ago to shower, change, and get food. All in all, a miserable couple of days, made moreso by the fact that Lexa should be awake by now.

\---

Lexa flickers slowly back into consciousness, becoming fully aware of the aches and pains that reverberate through her body. Breathing hurts like a bitch. It feels like she got kicked by a horse. Then there’s a throbbing, persistent pain that radiates from her left thigh. 

Her eyes flicker open and then shut again against the bright white lights. Patches of her memory come back, next, reminding her of what happened in the alleyway. She can’t suppress and loud growl as she thinks of that bumbling idiot, Clarke Griffin. Lexa is going to strangle Clarke when she gets her hand on her. Clarke is cute and Lexa, much to her chagrin, consistently finds Clarke’s flirting charming, but this incident had just crossed a line. Flirting with her while she was bleeding on the ground! Lexa won’t stand for it.

She growls again, which triggers a violent coughing fit. 

Clarke startles at the sound of Lexa’s dry scratching coughs. She jolts up from her seat, pours a cup of water with a straw, and tentatively offers it to Lexa. “Lexa,” she tries softly, holding out the water. Lexa doesn’t open her eyes or pause in her coughing. Clarke tries again, “Lexa, I’ve got water for you.”

This time Lexa’s eyes crack open and she glowers at Clarke. Then she spots the water and tries to sit up to reach it, but is unable to move. Seeing her struggle, Clarke sets the water down and helps adjust Lexa so that she is sitting up in bed. Clarke holds out the water again. Still with her icy glare fixed on Clarke, Lexa leans forward and sucks eagerly at the straw. Her eyelids flutter at the cool water soothing her aching throat. 

When her eyes open again, Lexa surveys Clarke. She’s got bags under her eyes, hair that needs to be washed, and badly rumpled clothes. Clearly she’s been here a while. Clarke’s movements carry a sort of weight and hesitance that Lexa’s never seen on her before.

Clarke shifts uncomfortably, waiting for Lexa to begin chewing her out. The silence drags out for a minute and then another. Since Lexa doesn’t seem willing to speak, Clarke draws in a deep breath and prepares the apology she’s been working on. Her voice is cracked and strained as she speaks, “Lexa. I’m so sorry, Lexa. I was being so unprofessional and you were in serious danger because of it. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again. I know you can probably never forgive me, but I hope I can eventually earn back your trust. I’m sorry.” By the end Clarke is choking back tears and suppressing pitiful sniffles. There’s another long pause.

“Clarke, if you ever do that again I will strangle you. Or worse I’ll send Anya after you.” Lexa’s voice is quiet and raspy, but firm and kind of terrifying.

Clarke rushes to speak, getting more hysterical the longer she talks, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. It was stupid to ever be flirting with you in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking. It will never happen again. Don’t worry about it at all. It’s just I thought you might like me a little, and you kept placing calls for backup, and requesting me, and I thought maybe that meant you liked me because you wanted to work with me, and -”

Lexa cuts her off abruptly, “Clarke, did you ever consider that you keep getting called as my back-up because the patrol areas we’re assigned to are right fucking next to each other.”

Clarke’s mouth drops open, she blinks, and then she flushes as she hangs her head in shame, muttering, “No. I did not think of that. I’m sorry. It was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

Lexa sighs and shifts into a more comfortable position on the bed. “I’m really angry at you right now.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Lexa sighs again. She can already feel her anger melting away. Fucking Clarke Griffin and her goddamn beautiful blue eyes. “I think you owe me to make up for this incident.”

“Anything. Whatever you want. I could, like, help you with your rehab or giving you massages or something. And that totally sounded bad. Like I didn’t mean that as me flirting with you. I just meant -”

"Clarke. I like you flirting with me. Just maybe don't do it when I've been shot. How about you flirt with me over dinner? You’re buying. You’ll be buying for the next couple of months." Lexa’s lips twitch smugly as Clarke gapes at her like a fish.

“You mean you want. . . ? Like you want me to take you on a date? On multiple dates? Or am I. . . ?” Clarke splutters uselessly.

“Yes, like a date, Clarke. We’ll negotiate multiple dates later.” A full grin comes over Lexa’s face because Clarke looks so stunned she could be knocked over by a feather.

A slow, radiant grin creeps over Clarke’s face. “I knew it. I knew you liked me!”

A loud groan from the door startles them out of their staring. “Fuck’s sake, Lexa. You could have been seriously injured because of this idiot, but you’re going to go on a date with her? You’re so useless around pretty girls.”

“Yeah, well, I have a date and you don’t, so suck it, Anya.”

\---

The first date goes rather well. As does the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth. . .


End file.
